


Finding Claudia

by Dayntee



Category: Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Aromantic, Gen, Origin Story, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 14:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19402207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dayntee/pseuds/Dayntee
Summary: After inadvertently rescuing a young half-orc girl, a jaded and worn human noble begins to feel his heart soften for a stranger whose quirks remind him of happier times.





	Finding Claudia

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been wanting to write this one for a while. It’s a headcanon of how two characters of mine/my fiancee’s met. To lend context, I’ve provided their race/class combos below, along with a short description.
> 
> Winston Elwood III  
> Taldan Human Inquisitor (Spellbreaker) of Ragathiel  
> Former Crusader of Mendev
> 
> Winston is an average-looking former Taldan noble of middle age, late thirties to early forties. Many take him as stern and unyielding, and he’s a formidable protector of his allies on the battlefield (typically wielding a Heavy Shield/Bastard Sword combo). He once had a family, including a wife and daughter, but they were lost to him as he returned home from the Mendevian Crusades. In his loss-driven rage, he tore up and down the Worldwound, seeking revenge on any he deemed evil, until he came across one particularly loathesome spellcaster and freed his charge. He’s very logically minded and generally no-nonsense... until it comes to his one traveling companion.
> 
> Claudia Elwood  
> Half-Orc Barbarian (Urban), reveres Cayden Cailean  
> Former Shaman’s Apprentice, current head chef of C.H.O.W.
> 
> Claudia is a young half-orc, barely into adulthood. She was a bastard orphan taken in by a cruel and relentless orc shaman, and she underwent some severe and brutal abuse in his care. Winston stumbled upon her during his trip along the Worldwound, as he crossed into Belkzen, and immediately slew her captor. While his intent was almost certainly not benevolent, whatever remained of his humanity broke through his rage as he saw Claudia for what she was: broken, alone, and terrified. While any other being might have slain her for what she was, in that moment, he saw a whisper of the daughter he had lost, and broke her chains, leaving her free. As the first kindness she’d ever witnessed, it drew Claudia to follow the man and, eventually, he took her in as a surrogate daughter (even though he never expressly refers to her as such). 
> 
> That should be enough to give the gist of their background; the rest takes place shortly after, as Winston prepares Claudia for a life on the road of an adventurer and, eventually, a Pathfinder.
> 
> Orcish words provided by Orcish Dictionary (https://www.orcishdictionary.com/).

__**Note:** The original post [on Tumblr](https://dayntee.tumblr.com/post/185923759127/pathfinder-finding-claudia) has some Pathfinder wiki links that might be relevant to new readers. Enjoy!

* * *

It had been a grueling journey through the hills bordering the Hold of Belkzen and Ustalav. Winston hadn’t been able to shake the half-orc child (for she couldn’t have been older than thirteen, maybe fourteen, years of age) that followed him. After several days of allowing the girl to watch his camp from a distance, he had eventually allowed her to sit at the fire for warmth.

At first, neither had spoke. But as the days passed, Winston found his insatiable bloodlust for fiends and evil spellcasters dwindling against the curiosity at this uninvited companion.

She was dirty, beaten, and bruised, with raw wounds around her verdant green wrists where the shackles he’d removed had once been. Her hair was brown, he thought, though it was so matted and filthy he couldn’t determine the shade. Her eyes (when he caught sight of them, as she’d immediately avert her gaze) were also brown, and full of fear and caution. 

Still, he noticed that, as he’d pull out his mess kit and begin to cook the basic meal from whatever catch he’d managed on the way, she would watch his movements closely. At first, he thought it was a fascination or fear for fire, as the shaman he had slain had demonstrated proficiency with the most volatile of elements. Then he realized that, as he’d mix around ingredients or flip over a piece of venison, it was the utensils she was watching.

“Are you hungry?” he finally asked, and she looked up at him from the edge of his campground. She tilted her head in confusion at him, clumps of her hair swinging into her face and obscuring an eye. 

“Do you speak Taldan?” he prodded further, slowly, and she knitted her brow in response. ‘I suppose I did find her in the Hold, there’s no reason she’d know the common tongue...’ he frowned, and then gestured with his spare hand to the food, then to her. She nodded enthusiastically, and it was the first time he’d seen any real life in the girl as she scrambled over to the campfire eagerly.

As he finished cooking the meal, he scooped some of the roots and chunks of meat into a spare cup and offered it to her. She took the cup very carefully, almost reverently, and, for the first time he had seen, smiled impossibly large at him. Her prominent underbite was emphasized, her lower canines protruding forward, and she brought the cup close to her face, holding it in both hands. He watched as she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, almost as if she was as hungry for the scent as she were the vittles. She began to tip the cup forward and shake, chewing noisily on the sinewy flesh and clanging the tin cup against her teeth. 

He chuckled, and it struck him he wasn’t certain the last time he’d felt a spark of joy or even mild amusement. It was a ridiculous situation to him; by all rights, he assumed she should be starving, ready to devour whatever was given to her. Yet, she’d taken the time to savor the moment, the smells, and even now as he watched her chew for longer than was probably necessary, the flavor of what she was consuming. 

“You are strange for an orc,” he mumbled, and she glanced at him again, wiping the juices of the meal from her mouth with the back of her hand. She watched as he ate his own meal, seemingly fascinated by his use of utensils. Even years later after wars and countless trips in the wild, he maintained the basic etiquette expected of nobility. Not seeming to understand his words, she shrugged and went back to her meal, which she ate much more slowly than he anticipated. 

They ate in silence. Once they were finished, she stood and held out her hand. Puzzled, Winston stared blankly at her. She pointed at the dish in his hand, and then distantly to the creek he’d purposely set his camp near. 

“Quagad. Volkai,” she spoke, each word brusque with purpose. Orcish was not a language which Winston had spent much time with, but based on the gestures, he lifted his plate and fork and she took them both before picking up the empty pan and walking off to the creek with them.

‘Is... she doing the dishes?’ he pondered, and he let her be, instead tending to the fire and turning down the logs to help them settle for the evening. It was at least twenty minutes later before she returned, and he was surprised to see her face and hair had been washed clean (or at least, as clean as could be without soap), along with the stack of dishes she had taken with her. Her hair was, indeed, brown, though a lighter chestnut color than he had surmised. She offered the clean dishes to him, and he took them quietly, watching her with interest as she sat on the opposite side of the campfire from him, closer than she had ever dared. She wore a happy smile as she began gathering stacks of branches and leaves as an impromptu sleep mat. 

Winston looked down at the stack of dishes in his hand. They quite possibly were cleaner than he had ever managed to get them, practically spotless in spite of their age and wear. He dug out one more thing from his bag; his winter blanket. It was far too warm for him to use it anyway, and he stood, walking over to her before offering the bundle. 

“Take it. It’s more comfortable than brush,” he said, knowing she wouldn’t understand a word he was saying. She looked up at him in surprise, tentatively accepting the offering. She squished her fingers into it and brought it close to her chest, once again reverent of what she had been given. 

“Kittaz,” she murmured, nudging her cheek into the fabric. “Zseskag,” she looked up at him again, giving him a little nod of thanks.

He pointed to himself. “Winston,” he said, before looking back at her and pointing back with a questioning look. She seemed to blush, turning her face away shyly.

“Kloanpad,” she replied, and there was shame in her voice. He got the idea it wasn’t a name she was fond of.

“That’s a bit difficult for my Taldan tongue. How about...” he took a moment, before pointing at her again. “Claudia? There’s a proper Taldan name.”

She looked at him confused for a moment, thinking hard, before pointing slowly at herself again. “Claw-dee-uh?” she sounded slowly and he nodded. She smiled that impossible grin again and nodded back. “Claudia!” she said proudly, pounding her fist to her chest with a grunt.

“Claudia,” he affirmed, walking back over to his side of the campfire and settling down for the evening. He watched her roll out the blanket, amazed at its size and softness, and curl up on her nest of foliage. It didn’t take long before he heard her gently snoring, and he found himself stifling a chuckle of incredulity again.

“Goodnight, Claudia,”


End file.
